“Yes.”
“Good.”
“I wanted to make sure you knew.”
He almost smiled.
Clara looked toward the children.
Elias watched her cautiously.
Ruth held Samuel.
Rose was whispering to Daniel.
A family.
Broken.
Not incomplete.
Broken.
There was a difference.
They did not need somebody to create them.
They already existed.
They needed help surviving grief.
Clara understood grief.
Maybe too well.
Still.
Marriage?
A ranch?
A stranger?
Five children?
She looked toward Nathaniel.
“Why me?”
He took longer to answer.
“You saw Samuel coughing before you saw the ranch.”
Clara said nothing.
“You spoke to him before asking what I owned.”
“Half the women here have spent ten minutes deciding whether five children are too much.”
“You counted blankets.”
Clara frowned.
“What?”
“When I drove in.”
“You looked at the wagon.”
“Everybody did.”
“No.”
“They looked at me.”
“You looked at supplies.”
She had.
Without noticing.
Nathaniel continued.
“You noticed Ruth’s beadwork.”
“You answered honestly when I asked about children.”
“You did not apologize for something you cannot control.”
Clara almost laughed.
“I apologize for it constantly.”
“Not today.”
That struck deeper than he knew.
Nathaniel said: